


Take me to (John)Church

by Ludella



Series: Tumblr Drabbles/Requests [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Drabble Collection, Grumpy Old Men, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-03 10:25:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11530275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludella/pseuds/Ludella
Summary: Collection of Johnchurch drabbles from requests with tumblr prompts/requests/those ask things.Ratings change per chapter.





	1. things you said that i wish you hadn’t

**Author's Note:**

> someone made the point that we need more johnchurch in general so i'll post every single fucking thing until the pairing even gets a real fucking tag here goddammit
> 
> these are all drabble requests from tumblr

“I don’t want to hang out with you anymore, John.”

There meetings are never the same afterwards. From then on, jokes and goofs are pushed off the table and Merle becomes a hard businessman. John picks and prods at him, offers games and conversation and banter and bets and–and it’s never enough.

The dwarf sitting across from him keeps his eyes furrowed together, eyes hard as he asks questions, gives answers, and is then killed. He never wavers once, and this newfound resilience causes an emotion so complicated in its simplicity to swell within his… chest? It’s odd how he feels it even once Merle is killed and he returns to his planar form, feels the emotion mold against every bump, ridge, and fold of his existence.

He turns it into something he knows how to deal with– _anger._

John plunges himself into his quest and chases the Light with renewed fervor. After nearly a hundred years, he accumulated strength and power like never before, but never any cause for motivation. The existence of himself was always motivation enough.

Now, he continues to think, even when individual ideation is unnecessary. 

If he can succeed, this is over. This hot white pain born from anger born from sadness will melt away into the divine feeling of being all that is knowledgeable and true in existence. 

When this ends–he’ll have him entirely. Everything that once was and will be Merle Highchurch, all rolled up into one physical entity that should by no means plague him so. The only satisfying end was to force him to understand, force him to assimilate and god, why didn’t this one understand?

And most importantly–why won’t he hang out with him anymore?

The cold cluster of every living being in the multiverse is lonely when denied the one simple creature who is the first to both offer him happiness and take it away.


	2. things you said when i was crying

“See? I told you so.”

John’s ears are ringing, and he almost doesn’t hear a word the dwarf says. In fact, every single part of his body (his _body_ ) feel like they’ve been pulled apart and singed entirely. All he can do is stare at the hand reaching out to him and the gentle, familiar smile on Merle’s face.

He hasn’t been human in so long.

He hasn’t been _John_ in so long.

The tears are simply reflex, and he could not stop them if he wanted to. Instead, he opts for a first action and attempts to lift his hand–only to find the limb much heavier than he remembers. His head falls to stare at it and the quick motion makes the world spin–he reaches up to grab his head and hits himself instead–he recoils in pain.

“Woah, woah, buddy, take it slow!” he hears Merle say, voice a little closer now. “Here, grab a hold, we’re gonna Kris Kringle and Winter Warlock this bad boy, one foot in front of the other…”

John doesn’t understand what he means, given he isn’t even standing nor does he know what those people are. It doesn’t matter, seeing as the idea of him articulating conscious, singular thought in and of itself feels too loud. Too quiet? Without the voices of trillions alongside his.

Merle’s hands try to tug him forward, but are unsuccessful as the human nearly topples over completely. He instead opts to simply kneel alongside John and wrap the man up in his arms. “Bring it in, big guy… ain’t so bad, is it?”

It’s horrible, he wants to say. He wants to scream and lash out and gouge every set of bewildered eyes focused on them. He wants to push Merle away and kill him in black flames, just like he always would, and feel the satisfaction of another plane devoured. Stand up and walk away. Prepare again for a new plan, a new anything–

But he can’t. John’s body is limp and helpless now that he’s been defeated, and there is nothing he can do to protect himself in this suddenly large and foreign world he’s been cast into.

It’s all so foreign–the sensation of having a body, the feel of a “ground”, wind, sight, sound, other people, no other thoughts, all of it is too much to handle.

So he clings to the one familiar thing in the world and throws his arms around Merle, holding on for dear, uncertain life.


	3. things you said when we were the happiest we've ever been

****“You were right.”

Merle spits out his drink comically, and John shakes his head, knowing he did it on purpose. “I’m sorry, _what_?” the dwarf laughs. “Can you repeat that like, five more times?”

John scrunches up his nose and takes a sip of his own beverage as he averts his eyes to the beach stretching out before them.

“Nope.”

Although Merle lets out an exasperated groan, John can hear the amusement behind it and hides a smile behind the rim of his glass.

Years are a lot slower than John once remembered, especially once he was no longer a semi-sentient cannibalizing plane of existence–that helped a lot of things, actually. It’s been three years since he was promptly ripped from the sky and defeated in a grand battle that had been a century in the making. John can’t remember how long he had been running amuck before he reached the IPRE’s original world, but it hardly matters.

Merle took full responsibility of being John’s ‘parole officer’ of sorts. Lucretia and Davenport both agreed that, being the great threat he still was, John would have to be banished from wherever-the-fuck they lived country and under constant supervision. The wink the two shared when they thought his back was turned makes John think it was all a set-up to begin with.

They returned to Merle’s bachelor pad that had been left empty for over a year now, overlooking the beach. John can’t remember much of his life before ascending, but he can tell he didn’t visit beaches very often just from the way the sight catches him off guard.

It’s lovely–and he hates it.

He glances to the side to find Merle watching him with a too-fond expression that makes John feel both anxious and at home simultaneously. When the dwarf reaches his glass across the gap between their reclining chairs, John meets him in the middle to clink them together.

“Won’t even say I was right one more time?”

“Don’t think so, sanctimonious bastard.”

Merle’s laugh is loud and hardy, forcing John to chuckle along with him. He almost doesn’t hear the dwarf whisper before taking another long drink.

“Thank god I was.”


	4. "I let you win"

****Still holding the white ‘king’ piece in his hand, John raises a brow skeptically at the dwarf across the table.

“Come again?”

“I let you win.”

Merle crosses his arms over his chest confidently, just egging the other on with the mischievous glint in his eye alone.

Merle had called for parley early on this ‘cycle’ as he learned they liked to call them, and for lack of anything better to do, they agreed on a game of chess while wagering the winner a few more questions.

The game lasted about a month.

“You wasted all that time,” John says, deadpan against the other’s cocky smirk, “to ‘let me win?’“

“Mmmmyep, that’s it!”

John allows a smile to rise to his face and sees the one on Merle’s grow in size in response.

He was a dirty bastard.

“Fair enough,” John says, setting the piece in his hand back down as the dwarf begins to pick up the ones on his side. He looks out the window of their shared room, and the setting sun hasn’t changed a bit.

In this place, they have all the time they could ever ask for.

Merle rearranges the pieces back on his side of the board and challenges John with a toothy grin. “How’s about round two, big guy?”


	5. "They didn't just find out. they already knew!"

John held his face in his hands, trying his hardest not to melt into the floor right then and there. “Am I the only one _just_ finding out about this?”

Merle shrugged casually. “In my defense, I had been dropping hints for decades.”

Of course Merle’s friends didn’t take any issue with him having romantic feelings for their mortal enemy–it shouldn’t be a surprise. One of them was already dating Death himself, two went back and forth between death and rebirth, and the rest he was sure had _some_ fucked up shit going on.

In retrospect it made perfect sense why nobody had been surprised when Merle offered to ‘break John out’ of his confinement.

“Am I not allowed to leave unless I return your mortal sentiments?” John asked, voice muffled by his hands over his mouth.

“No, you can–either way I’m in charge of overseeing you from here on. Just thought I’d give you the heads up that I _have_ been trying to smash for a while now.”

The language used both embarrassed and amused John, and he can’t help but chuckle pathetically. Gods, if becoming an ascendant, cannibalizing plane of existence wasn’t weird, becoming human again after and be subject to being hit on by a dwarf for the rest of his life was.

John stood from the bed he’d been given in the dormitory and approached Merle at the door. “Lead the way, Merle; I am at your mercy.”

As Merle shut the door behind him he shook his head with an exaggerated sigh. “Like I’ve been saying, John, no one really gives a shit anymore–you’re not my prisoner, this isn’t war, and we’ve been _friends_ longer than you think.” He tugged him by his sleeve down a different hallway. “The most I’m gonna do is take you out to dinner, for Pan’s sake–oh, Magnus.”

John stopped dead in his tracks. Just a few feet down the hall stood Magnus Burnsides, one of the triumphant three who’d faced him head on and dragged John’s form from the ‘Hunger.’ The other human smiled when he saw Merle first, though his expression immediately fell when John walked into view.

Not having the powers of a god and being able to kill whoever whenever at any time was really inconvenient for these awkward situations.

“Finally getting out, John?” Magnus asked, waltzing up to him with his arms crossed over his puffed out chest. 

“Yes, Merle is–”

“I know,” he interrupted. “I was part of the decision making process.” He seemed to be standing taller than usual, as if trying to intimidate John with his sheer size alone.

It kind of worked.

Merle stepped in casually. “I’ll call you when the place is set up, Magn–”

Magnus jabbed a finger into John’s chest, nearly sending the actually quite weak man back. His face was all sharp rugged edges and he leaned in, challenging John with a hard stare. “Just remember, Merle might like you, but none of us want a step-dad.”

With that confusing ending statement, he leaned back and kept walking down the hall past the two of them, leaving John to think about whatever the fuck he’d just said while listening to Merle’s resounding laughter.


	6. Episode 67

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not a req, just somethin i wanted to write
> 
> john's perspective on the events leading up to ep67 after the IPRE goes missing

So many years.

Over a decade of years is over ten worlds, ten lights of creation, ten new opportunities to continue consuming and growing. While small in the long run, the Hunger never relented on the idea that one ‘didn’t matter’ as much. Ten lights was enormous power. Those years were important.

And he spends all this time _starving_ instead.

One light was enough to rule an entire world, to have all the power one could imagine, and yet wasn’t enough. The more one accumulates, the more they need, and John has been dragging himself through planes searching for something, _anything_ to satiate himself.

John thinks he might die like this.

There is a discrepancy between his singular reaction and the collective hunger’s. On one hand, he can accept his demise with nothing more than a simple ‘oh, so that’s how it is.’ It isn’t a surprise; in the back of his mind, he’s known it was coming. 

On the other hand, the rest of his collective consciousness begins to burn in a panicked frenzy. A cornered rat will bite a cat, and for the sake of survival, even an entire system of sentient planes can be moved to act irrationally. They move quickly throughout the planar universe in search of anything that can possibly fulfill them even a little--a morsel, a drop, anything.

And there is only nothing.

Until he gets a scent of something

The first messengers return quickly and sporadically. He doesn’t wait to hear what they have to report before he sets their course to their previous destination. The fact they have anything to report at all is sign enough.

And he sees what they see.

And he sees a familiar face.

As if the frantic yearning for light between trillions of gathered minds was not enough, John feels his skin begin to crack.

The urge to find the light of creation is one thing--but John has developed his own personal hunger, and it eats at him daily.

Although every single mind from the mass move together in tandem, John feels himself beginning to separate oh so slightly. They rush in the same direction, but they crave different things.

John’s hunger is stronger, though. He pulls every resource from the eons of memories and consumption he can to summon up on particular spell.

Just to see that one face again. And just like the rest of the collective consciousness, one taste is not simply enough. Being able to see him brings no satiation, but John knows he’s _finally_ here, and it’s only a matter of time.

“Hi, Merle. You... got a minute?”

He’ll satiate his hunger.

Then, they will be together, as more than just ‘friends’-- they will be _Ascended_.


	7. vampire!john/merle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one wasn't a request i just got a need for vampires
> 
> slight violence in this, be warned. not so close to gore but might be squicky to some people!

****It’s all because John’s ‘1’ looks like a ‘7.’

He should’ve put the note into his phone, wrote it larger where he could distinguish the numbers better, anything, because there’s nothing comparable to the panic of opening his fridge expecting to find six packets of blood only for there to be none at all.

Panic rises like a thermometer thrown into a fire, quickly chased by a hunger that’s suddenly more impatient than usual. But it isn’t just a craving or something as small as missing dinner--he wouldn’t be able to receive shipments from his source for another week. He’ll have to make do.

So he does. Keeping a distance from any mortal folk, John tries to go as long as he could without anything at all to sustain himself. What was he supposed to do, break into a hospital? A Fantasy Red Cross? He isn’t that kind of man, much less that kind of vampire.

But he gets overconfident, cocky, even, believing he can survive for one week without food, underestimating what he would really do when he’s thirsty. It’s understandable to some extent, given he hasn’t _not_ been filled in decades. And for such a small mistake he has to suffer now, practically a walking husk just making it through days trying to sleep as long as he can.

At night, John takes walks to calm himself, to burn off the energy that comes with the burning desire for sustenance.

That’s when he accidentally encounters him; his next meal.

His body acts by itself as soon as he sees the man, alone in his backyard at 2am. It’s the perfect target and time, no witnesses, no other homes nearby… he could get away with it. John’s feet move him forward automatically, consumed entirely by the need for blood that his body has been denied for too long. Consequences don’t matter, they’re completely irrelevant, and John can’t regret his actions as soon as he gets the man pinned to the ground.

Only then does he realize the stranger is a dwarf, staring up at him in shocked terror.

The moment his teeth sink into his neck, John feels his consciousness slip away.

Nothing else matters. In the back of his mind, he registers the dwarf making some choked noise that is quickly muted. The ringing in John’s ears amplifies until he can’t hear a thing, and he relishes in the first ‘hunt’ in over a century.

Perhaps it’s due to the fact he hasn’t drank directly from a human in so long, but John swears he’s never tasted anything more delicious. His hands seize the man’s upper arms, gripping him tight and keeping him in place as his jaw locks onto his neck. Though his lower teeth don’t have fangs to piece him with, they dig into the skin of the man’s throat, working the flesh to milk more blood into his mouth.

John isn’t gentle, doesn’t know how to be, after so long. His fangs feel new and clumsy, piercing him once, twice, then accidentally yanking down and tearing the skin there and fuck if John cares. They’re more holes the leak from, he thinks, and practically moans into the stranger’s neck as he sucks harshly at the marred wounds. It would be a miracle for him to have any skin left intact at all.

He doesn’t know how long he continues, all but eating the dwarf alive in his own backyard. But the moment he regains a sliver of consciousness, enough to really realize what’s going on, John’s overcome with regret and mostly shame. Regret because he can’t go back after this, and shame because even though he knows he’s fucked up, he also can’t stop.

It takes an entire minute longer for him to finally loosen his jaw, beginning to pull back--

\--and a hand on the back of his head pushes him back down.

John’s eyes widen in surprise, only able to see the man’s hair and the ground they’re on as his other hand comes up to his shoulder. This person is… encouraging him? His fangs sink back into one of the already damaged points of entry, and he feels around the wound with his tongue--he’s really done a number on the man. The entire side of his neck is torn up in scratches and holes, not even leaking before John is able to lick the blood out of them.

The man lets out a sigh that John can hear more clearly now, back in his own senses, and squeezes his shoulder. “I’m not dead yet,” the dwarf says, though he sounds exhausted. “Keep going until you’re full--don’t want you hurting anybody else.”

To be given permission by a mortal should be… humiliating, in all honesty. John is a centuries-old vampire, one of the most powerful of his kind, who has graciously lived off of donated blood (stolen, but not hunted!) for many years. If he wanted, he could take down as many humans or elves or whatever to fill his thirst!

At the same time, it does just the smallest bit to ease his shame. He hasn’t killed anybody, and he hasn’t ruined anyone’s life or gotten caught just yet.

John indulges himself in the rest of his meal, gentler now, one hand on the back of the man’s neck and the other on his shoulder. Even now, fully aware of himself and his actions, it’s still the best blood he’s ever tasted, and not from some young beauty, even. An older dwarven man.

Maybe he should’ve tried this specific strain sooner--or maybe he’ll just come back for seconds. With better manners, of course. He’ll have to treat the dwarf to a meal to make up for the one he gave John.


	8. body worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The person that asked about body worship johnchurch said it wasn't a request but can I request it anyways because honestly???? You're right, and I am a fool. Merle is a goddamn priest."
> 
> sexual content in this chapter

****When Merle asks John if they can try something new tonight, he doesn’t expect things to go so… slow. It’s different than anything they’ve done before in more than just that, though.

Merle directs John to lay back in bed, propped up on pillows and his own elbows while still fully clothed. It’s odd, he thinks, given they usually just remove their clothing first thing to get it out of the way. But tonight, Merle leans over him, kissing him so smooth and gently it feels like it could be their first, and doesn’t hasten the kiss to be anything more. John does–he tries to urge Merle’s mouth open with his tongue, even nipping at his lips and doing anything to get things progressing.

Each time, Merle slows it down, and the frustration hurts. Merle can tell, and pulls back with a breathy chuckle. “This isn’t about neglect play–just let me give you this, hon.”

So John does. He leans back against the pillows and plays good. With a pleased smile, Merle pecks his mouth before diving down to kiss the small space he can reach on his neck before his shirt is in the way.

It’s a relief when Merle’s hands unbutton and remove his suit jacket rather quickly, throwing it to the side carelessly. John thinks they might be getting somewhere, and then Merle slows down yet again, unbuttoning his shirt so fucking leisurely he feels he may be making love to a snail. It takes a minute for him to undo two buttons, and Merle’s mouth chases every new patch of skin revealed from underneath.

The dwarf’s hands smooth over his chest as it becomes available. They lead the way for his lips to follow and they kiss almost every inch of dark skin so gently they might as well not be touching at all.

“Merle,” John says quietly, more confused than anything, and receives an even softer shush from the other.

His shirt is being pushed off after what feels like hours, and Merle thankfully undoes his belt at a much more acceptable pace this time. Both are thrown away with the jacket, and John almost groans in exasperation when Merle’s fingers take their time with the buttons on his pants. He’s not even hard yet, only the stirrings of the prospect of a night with Merle more than the actions themselves.

Merle goes through the same process with his pants and boxers, pulling the two of them down at the same time and pressing his lips to his hipbones as they’re exposed to the air. But this time, he only makes it until just below John’s hips before he removes them entirely without the same process. From where he’s propped up on the bed, John watches as Merle leans back on his haunches, fully clothed, and crawls down the bed.

He’s utterly confused until a hand runs up the back of his calf and lifts his leg for Merle to press a kiss to the top of his foot. John’s insides flip as another kiss is bestowed upon his ankle, all the way up to his knee where they begin curving inwards.

“What are you… doing?” John asks at long last, unable to deny the interest now that his arousal is clearly visible.

Even so, Merle denies John any attention where he really wants it, and his kisses become small nips and suckles at the insides of his thighs. A full body shiver sends his toes curling as Merle hikes John’s knee up and over his shoulder.

He only pauses after sucking a small mark into the junction between John’s hip and thigh. “Appreciating you,” Merle says, as if it’s so simple, and right as he kisses the spot just above John’s now quite evidently hard cock, he releases his leg and moves back down on the bed to pick up his other foot.

And he starts right back over.

It’s absolute torture, and this time John can’t hold back a low groan in frustration as his head tilts back over the pillows. Merle simply chuckles and continues his work, as if chastising a child. “I realized it from when we first met, you know,” he says at his calf, taking a moment to nip a hickey into the side of his knee, “you’re beautiful.”

Odd, but the compliment makes John flush, as if he hasn’t heard it before. The blood below his skin feels as if it’s boiling under Merle’s touch, and the dwarf doesn’t let up.

“Your long, lithe legs,” Merle continues, nosing his way up to kiss and nip at his hip right where he knows John is delicate. He all but squirms, suddenly restless, and has to restrain himself from reaching for Merle. “Your curved, sensitive hips… your smooth stomach… your chest, god, John.” With each word, Merle keeps climbing up his body, punctuating every syllable with another lick or bite at his suddenly inflamed skin.

John grows more and more agitated with each motion until he’s literally writhing beneath him.

By the time Merle makes it back up to his face, John doesn’t give him a moment to speak and grabs him by the back of the neck, yanking him down into a teeth clashing kiss. Merle doesn’t try to slow him down this time and meets the ferocity with his own, teeth and tongue biting and pulling at each other in tandem. The messiness of it might otherwise disgust John, saliva running down his chin and wet, desperate groans from the two of them filling the air, but right now he couldn’t care less.

He doesn’t bother giving Merle the same treatment, and now that he finally has a hold of him, he rips the dwarf’s shirt right down the middle.


	9. don't wear a suit to the wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Alternatively, "you wear a suit every day John. You have to wear something else to our wedding so it's special"" tumblr req

****Merle only laid out a few ground rules for the wedding. One, all their friends and family would attend. John had no qualms there. Two, it’d be somewhat traditional, given his background. Again, John was fine.

Finally, John was not allowed to wear a suit.

It’s obvious, really–he wears the damn thing every day, walking around town like an academic on his way to pick up groceries. It’s a good look, definitely, Merle is super into it. But it’s become the norm to see John in it, and for their wedding, it should be _special_.

Merle doesn’t say what John should wear, just something different than his normal attire. For all he cares it could be some elven armor or nice fantasy robes. Hell, John could come out in one of Merle’s hawaiian shirts and he’d be happy–well, Merle’s quite happy enough already–after all, he’s getting married.

This wedding is far better. It helps that all of their friends and family are here, filling every single seat in the church from the front to the back. It also helps that he’s marrying someone he honestly, truly loves, this time. Even if John is entirely nervous about being presented as Merle’s husband in front of all his friends, his biological family, you know, all people he nearly killed a few years ago.

They had decided neither of them were really fit to be walked down the aisle, and it would do just fine to come out at the same time from two doors right by the front of the temple. Merle, nosy as he is, can’t help but peek out to see everything being put in order.

Before Merle is prepared, the doors are suddenly opening and his view is no longer obscured. He can see Magnus and Taako sitting with the rest of the IPRE in the front rows, along with many Bureau members, the rest of Merle’s family, and John–John? _Holy shit_.

Realistically, he expected him to wear some other traditional human garb of the time. Something with lots of laces up the front and tight cuff sleeves. The reality is… certainly tight in places. John foregoes the idea of a suit entirely.

Instead, he’s wearing a dress. A long, floor length, white dress, halter top neckline, and lace sleeves below his shoulders. As soon as his eyes meet Merle’s, the human smirks and proceeds out the door, and Merle realizes what he’s done once he’s late to step out.

He’s been played; there’s no better cure for nerves than making the person beside you look worse.


	10. are you jealous?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> combined prompt requests "“Wait a second, are you jealous?” ”don’t call me princess, asshole""

“Welcome home.”

Merle is immediately on guard, and he hesitates shutting the door behind him. There’s probably still time to escape if he runs now–no, but John already knows he’s home. He can get a head start, though, but John’s legs are longer and could easily catch up.

Wincing, he closes the door and begins taking off his shoes and setting down his gear. He knows the tone in John’s voice all too well now, having been together for no short amount of time. At first he just recognized it as a “something’s up” voice, but realized later it’s a specific breed of quiet anger that’s more terrifying than the version of John they’d fought on the Starblaster years ago.

When he enters the living room, John is sitting in one of the armchairs, sipping tea and reading a book Merle _knows_ he’s already finished four times. It’s his ‘I’m-not-actually-reading-but-need-to-look-busy’ book. Another not-good sign.

Merle takes the best approach of pretending everything’s alright instead and pours himself a cup of tea from the pot resting on the coffee table–shit, John left out a cup for him ahead of time, too, he really _is_ pissed. “Everything at home alright, no intruders, no blight?” Merle asks casually, examining everything around the room for some sign of what could be wrong.

John shakes his head the smallest bit. He hasn’t even looked up from his book yet. “Everything is fine. How was your trip?”

That’s much easier to talk about, and Merle’s relief is immediate. “Oh, it was awesome! It’s been way too long since I’ve been out on the ocean, and it was really great getting to spend some time with Dav–”

John’s eyes squint and suddenly look over at him in a harsh glare.

Shit. That’s it, isn’t it. Merle coughs, and tries to continue to make sure. “I got some good fishing done, way different from doing it on the shore, you know? We had to work together on this one catch, and Dav–why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

He gestures towards John. “Making that sour face whenever I say Dav–see, you can’t even not do it when I’m talking about it!”

John ‘tsk’s and rolls his eyes, taking an emphatic drink of his tea to prove just how much he doesn’t care. “You’re imagining things.”

“Imagining my ass! You were in a piss-poor mood before I even got home, too.”

A small flash of realization threatens to overtake Merle’s thoughts, and he tries his best not to let a smile rise to his face. He isn’t entirely successful, but it hardly matters, given John is doing everything to look pointedly away from the dwarf’s face.

“Wait a second, John…”

The human takes a long sip of his drink.

“Are you _jealous_?”

“Please, Merle, don’t be preposterous.”

Despite his words, John doesn’t make eye contact and pretends to be looking back down at his book. Unfortunately for him, if Merle knows him enough to tell his mood from his tone of voice alone, then he can definitely catch the flush of red beneath his cheeks and at the tips of his ears. It’s a rare sight on John, and precisely why Merle values it so much. 

As attractive as the man is at all times, he’s also pretty damn cute.

With a laugh, Merle hops down from his seat and walks to where John is sitting instead, leaning over the arm of the chair. John finally meets his eyes and Merle can’t stop the grin at his mouth. “Don’t worry, you know you’re the only one for me, princess.”

John’s face scrunches up in immediate disgust. “Don’t call me ‘princess,’ you asshole.”

The tone of his words leave no room for discussion, but Merle knows better. John’s shoulders have relaxed now, and although he’s no doubt embarrassed of his own feelings, Merle can tell he’s relieved.

He can’t help from reaching out and turning John’s face towards him to kiss his frown. When did this old man get so cute?

**Author's Note:**

> (also thanks @ prim for suggesting i post these) i'm always in it for any kind of johnchurch content, come play with me [@ludella](ludella.tumblr.com) on tumblr for this rarepair please god stop being rare


End file.
